


Three's a Crowd

by rthstewart



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: 3 Sentence Ficathon, 3 Sentence Fiction, Golden Age (Narnia), Multi, Original Character(s), Spare Oom, Talking Animals, Witches, caspian's purple shirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29852469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/pseuds/rthstewart
Summary: Narnia fills for the Three Sentence FicathonMostly Golden Age, with some Spare Oom
Relationships: Caspian/Edmund Pevensie, Caspian/Peter Pevensie, Edmund Pevensie/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 47





	1. I'm Too Sexy...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WingedFlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingedFlight/gifts), [RuanChunXian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuanChunXian/gifts), [HarmonyLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmonyLover/gifts), [loveandrockmusic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandrockmusic/gifts), [ViaLethe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViaLethe/gifts), [Syrena_of_the_lake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrena_of_the_lake/gifts), [EagleOfTheNinth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EagleOfTheNinth/gifts).



For WingedFlight, Edmund/Caspian/ _Sexy Purple Shirt_

Edmund settled in their bunk and, brow wrinkled with frowning concentration, carefully threaded a needle with purple silk and bent over the shirt in his lap.

“Should I be concerned with the care you are lavishing upon my shirt, rather than the slice I have across my hand?”

“Caspian, I do not feel that your poor, abused, and much admired shirt should bear the brunt for your sloppy blade work today.” 


	2. AFLAAAC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narnia, Aflac Duck. He's a Narnian expat living large in Calormen getting rich off his gimmick of being a talking duck

“With a thousand-soldier strong standing army and hundreds of cavalry they actually deploy, I sure thought it’d be easier making our sales quota in Calormen,” Oack quacked to his partner, Pack, as the waddled through the Tashbaan Medina handing out flyers.   
  


Pack wriggled his tail feathers and sighed, “For sure, and it’s not like you can rely on magic fireflower healing potion and even it doesn’t regrow limbs.”  
  


“They just think that if it's the will of Tash, it doesn't matter, without considering that, if his bolt really does fall down from above, your survivors would want an annuity to cover loss of income and cremation expenses, property coverage to rebuild after the fire and, if it _doesn’t_ kill you, that an accidental death and dismemberment policy could cover a wooden leg.”


	3. Putting away childish things

“It’s the War,” says the Vicar, her husband deployed in Gibraltar, the neighbor, her children’s paediatrician, Professor Kirke, that very odd Miss Plummer, and her director in the Twenty Committee who always seemed to forget that she actually could read the memoranda she typed on the double-cross system.  
  
After the return from Professor Kirke’s, however, the toys disappear, as do the arguments and complaints, and in their place strange skills emerge, like Peter and Edmund doing their own mending, Susan developing an inventory management system for their rationed goods, and little Lucy disappearing for days at a time to volunteer at London convalescent homes and hospitals.  
  
It might be the War, but Helen knows that whatever happened was not the War alone.


	4. Pawprints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Raccoon's important commission

Ruanchunxian, Narnia, this post: https://travelingstrawberry.tumblr.com/post/640133997407649793 (racoon artist)

* * *

From the moment the Royal Portraits were unveiled in what was supposed to have been an august and solemn occasion, it was clear that having Lucy select Rasim the Raccoon as the court artist had been an overly optimistic delegation of decisionmaking.

  
Peter had a roaring headache and was calculating the steps from his throne on the dais, to the bottle of spirits and the willowbark pain powder in his office; he hoped Edmund’s twitching amusement would remain suppressed as oddly barking coughs.  
  


Lucy’s enthusiastic “They are so colourful!” to the very proud Raccoon artist was tempered by Susan’s more diplomatic, “And to render our likenesses in pawprints is indeed an achievement,” and there was a long pause, “if a trifle abstract in its execution.”


	5. Witches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several fills for the Witches of Spare Oom

From [the Witches of Spare Oom](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961374)

Anonymous, narnia, any, the lefay fragment (<https://narnia.fandom.com/wiki/The_Lefay_Fragment>)

Given the way that Letty blasted down the door of Mrs. Lefay’s shambling, decrepit Somerset home, that then had them leaping in whilst brandishing their iron rods, Polly had hoped (a little) that there might be more of a fight (which goes to show that Polly Plummer still had a great deal to learn about being a Witch and that she was very fortunate to have the very wise and cautious Letitia Ketterley (though everyone called her Letty) as her teacher). Mrs. Lefay’s magic wasn’t powerful enough anymore to counter two young and very strong witches but, as Letty well knew, it was always better, when dealing with the Fae, to be prepared for the worst and hope for the best. 

Mrs. Lefay hadn’t moved to defend herself, which meant, Polly supposed, that her magic was either weaker than they had even thought, or that she was just biding her time. Probably the later. She held tightly to her iron and followed Letty into the dusty, smelly sitting room. Mrs. Lefay was rocking in a squeaky chair; she was very round and her face from the front was almost square and her claw like hands were gripped around a horrid, miserable looking cat forced to sit in her lap (the cat’s name was Lance and as terrible as the things were that he did, he certainly did not deserve this fate, though that is a story for another time).

Letty was very dashing in her long, billowing coat and she pointed her iron at Mrs. Lefay. “On behalf of the Witches of Britain, I’m charged with enlisting you in our ancient battle against the Fae. You may come quietly and aid us, or…”

“Or be imprisoned? Again?” Mrs. Lefay croaked. With one arm tightly around the cat, she used a bone headed cane to pull herself up from her chair. “That’s not much of a choice, but at least it is a choice.”

* * *

Vialethe, Narnia, Pevensies, descendants of Morgan Le Fay (credit to athoughtfox)

The bombs have stopped falling and they are finally returning to London (it’s not really home, though Lucy is wild to see Mum again) after months at the Professor’s and at least 15 years in Narnia (though it surely is far, far longer, for Peter is the one who notices that things that would take two months here, like a Bitch’s pregnancy, took far more time in Narnia).

  
Edmund is worried, wondering how he can apologize to Mum for being such a prat without explaining _how_ , and they’re all fretting over how to explain their seeming new-found adulthood and profound changes -- it’s one thing to be at the Professor’s – he’d been to Narnia after all – but Mum is a secretary who will have dolls and tin soldiers for them and she’ll still want to wipe their dirty faces with handkerchiefs and smooth mussy hair with spit on her hand.  
  
They’re arrayed at the London station, cases in hand, hopefully and dreading, and Mum pushes through the crowd, ready to embrace them and then stops cold, staring, mouth open, and there is something glowing in her eyes that Lucy had only seen in Narnia; Susan gasps and exclaims, “Mum?” for she sees the magic, too, and then their Mother sweeps them all up in a hug, “Well, you lot have had an adventure, haven’t you, by the Fae, Peter, I think you are older than I am now!”

* * *

HarmonyLover, Narnia, Jill & Polly, _women with unusual interests_

Scrubb says the return from Narnia is always rough, how everything can seem dull or sharp, and you sleep too much or too little. That doesn’t explain the full of it though – Scrub isn’t seeing strange things fluttering in trees that have beautiful gossamer wings ad fangs, or the odd green and brown creatures lurking in the school pond, and his tea cup didn’t explode when he reported that Miss Plummer was coming to collect them as Experiment House closing for an investigation because the Head had been carted off and there was no explanation for where the circus lion wet. When Miss Plummer arrived, Jill realized that Scrub didn’t see how the woman was actually floating a little above the ground and when she tried to explain without crying, Miss Plummer just swept her up in warm, sweet hug and whispered, “Be welcome, Jill, you are a Narnia witch as I am and we are sisters now. 

* * *

WingedFlight, _Narnia, any, northern witches_

It's a long, boring, and cold train ride from Inverness but Jill knows that Letty and Polly were right in making the decision. Flying their brooms from the coven meeting would have been very wet, maybe even snowy, and the quarter moon wouldn’t have given them much light for navigation even with the compasses. 

“This will help,” Polly says and, muttering a few words from her spellbook, her portable cauldron glows with a warm and cheering light that will keep them merry all the way back to London.

* * *


	6. In Festival Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Vialethe, Narnia, Peter, _I'm a festival, I'm a parade/and all the wine is all for me_  
>  Vialethe, Narnia, Peter, _I'm put together beautifully/big wet bottle in my fist/big wet rose in my teeth/I'm a perfect piece of ass_

The golden light of the High King blinded him from the moment he strode into the How and slew the plotters with glistening swipes of the legendary Rhindon.  
  
The Magnificent Warrior from legend, bloody and bloodied on the battlefield, was now crowned by the embers of a blazing bonfire and Caspian watched, blushing, awed, and from a reverent distance as King Peter danced with joyous Beasts and twined on the lush grass with the heedless, wild girls and the burly horned men.   
  
King Peter had said he’d come to put Caspian on the throne, not take it from him, but Caspian knows, from the sage counsel, from the mighty battle, and now the ecstatic, worshipful revelry, that, whoever might sit on the Cair Paravel throne, Narnia will always be the High King’s realm.

* * *

Vialethe, Narnia, Peter, _I'm put together beautifully/big wet bottle in my fist/big wet rose in my teeth/I'm a perfect piece of ass_

_1._

Peter has Narnian modesty which is, to say, none at all, so, in the haze and aftermath of their own desperate, passionate Revel, Caspian can see him all, every scar, ridge, peak and dip of the High King's body. Caspian looks and then looks away, as Peter, dressed only in the golden glow of candles, moves about their tent to retrieve their abandoned wineskin and drink deeply.  
  
With his back to him, Peter says, "You are staring," in that sharp-edged way that cuts, and inflames.  
  
"You are an ass."  
  
Peter turns around and tosses the skin aside "Well, all you had to do was ask."

2.

"I think I should be offended," Priddy said mournfully and shook her long, silky ears.   
  
Duffleman, the Red Dwarf, kindly scratched her withers and replied, "Humans are just odd, Friend. I _believe_ they mean to be complimentary, admiring even."


	7. Euphoria

Anonymous, Any, Any, _too much catnip_

Ever since Jalur had become his Guard, the Tiger had never not shown up by the conclusion of Edmund’s security briefing, so it was very odd and more than a little concerning.

In fact, none of the Big Cats were about the Palace that morning – Fooh and Beehn, Peter’s Cheetah Guards, were also absent and it did seem that the canines, who were prompt and in attendance, were strangely smug; more worrisome still, the Crows were oddly quiet.

Suspecting a conspiracy, he and Peter eventually found their Guards, and most of the other Cats of the Claw rolling luxuriously about on the lawns outside the Treehouse that was their home, sprawled on their backs in the most undignified manner, rubbing their faces ecstatically into the ground, singing like drunken Badgers, and Jalur, the largest Cat in all of Narnia, staggered to his feet, mumbled, “My King,” and crashed to the ground in a heap so inelegant, Edmund would have to commission a drawing of it to taunt the Tiger once he came down from the catnip-induced euphoria.


	8. Go with your heart

Vioslva, Narnia, fauns/satyrs, dancing

_Edited (I meant the / as [or], but go with your heart)_

The first time they see the Fauns and Satyrs dance -- dance being a severely underinclusive term to describe the debauchery -- Lucy squeals and runs headlong into the throng, Edmund grins like a fiend and chases after his sister, and Peter is left standing on the sidelines next to Susan, really wishing that he were not old enough to know what it is he thinks he is watching and really, really wishing he was not observing it with his sister.   
  
The second time, he’s a little better prepared and accepts a few sips of the heady rich wine laced with herbs; Susan, though, drinks her fill, her lips are stained a deep red, her wild hair tangles in Satyr horns and Faun fur, and she sways and writhes and stomps about the roaring bonfire with Edmund, Lucy, and the ecstatic, lusty wood folk.  
  
The third time, Bacchus himself appears; Peter will not – and should not -- deny the god – and so he tosses aside his boots and cloak, and then his tunic; last to be cast off are his inhibitions rooted in memory of those things not done in that distant memory called England and he drinks deeply of the intoxicating brew, and throws himself into the Revel to be caught in the strong arms of the Satyroi.


	9. Finns and Feathers

WingedFlight, Narnia, any, A bird may love a fish, signore, but where would they live?

“I invoke the protections of the Three-Year Bonded Presumption Law,” the little Egret demanded.   
  
It was only from long practice that Edmund was able to keep a straight face but Etta was very earnest in her plea and her partner, Gobie, was flopping in the swamp slime at their respective feet – the Egret’s yellow-toed claws and his own boots – seemed quite serious, unless her gasping was because she was suffocating out of water, a possibility as Gobie was, in fact, _a fish._  
  
“Please, your majesty,” Gobie the Mudskipper pleaded and gurgled, “I just want to be with Etta and not worry about being eaten by the other swamp Birds.”

* * *

Mudskippers in fact can breathe out of water.


	10. Jalur

Ruanchunxian, Narnia, this image: http://bit.ly/2w0en0V  
 _Bonus if it's Jalur._

1.

Dread mounting, Edmund asked, "Jalur, you should tell me what you've done to return so swiftly snow free and licking your jaws."   
  
"If you _truly_ wish to know, your Majesty, you have but to command it."  
  
Edmund considered it, decided plausible deniability _was_ the better course, but also knew he could not let Jalur escape consequences completely and so delivered the most devastating of reprimands, "I regret to say that time in my company has altered you, Royal Guard."

2.

Morgan wrapped the cloak around her and, though she could feel the cold seep into her feet and surely Jalur was feeling it as well, they wouldn't leave until the Cub had had his fill of riding the Tiger through the first snowfall.   
  
They really should stop calling him "Cub," but no one wanted to say Harold's name and Morgan wasn't sure she wanted to hear it or say, even if it was her son's own name.   
  
Jalur was caked in snow and he might look grumpy but Morgan could tell from the way he bounded joyously through the drifts with the Cub squealing _faster Jaawl!_ that the Tiger would not tire until his rider did.


	11. Swinging with the Apes of the Western Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because if it's about sex in Golden Age, Ruth has definitely thought about it, and probably written it (I actually used this title in a story as one of the monographs in the Physician's office)

Anonymous, Narnia, any, _bonobos_

Swinging With The Wild Apes Of The Western Wild

Their Porcupine physician had returned from his journey to the Western Wild, literally bristling with eagerness to share with his monarchs the results of research into the reclusive Bonobo troop that lived in the remote woods.

“Thank you, your Majesties, yes, it was most informative, and I believe will allow me to better serve your medical needs being as Bonobos appear to be closest in form and function to Bonobos,” the Physician said as he gnawed on a twig and sputtered wood chops on the Council Room floor.”

The Physician turned so suddenly, Lucy and Susan’s Royals Guards had to leap into the air, growling, to avoid being swiped by his prickly tail.

“Yes, thank you,” Susan said, feeling an odd foreboding. She glanced at Peter. Her brother was also frowing a little; Edmund and Lucy, however were both leaning forward eagerly, chin on hands, elbows on knees.

_They know something I don’t._ Susan’s worry increased.

With a flourish, their Physician unrolled a richly illustrated parchment. “These are some of my drawings of my observations of Bonobo behaviors, and I just had a few questions for your Majesties.”

Susan stared at the parchment. _Was that?_

_Yes, yes it was._

“Friend,” Lucy began in a tone that bode very ill, “please ask and hopefully we can satisfy your curiosity.”

“Oh yes, let us do so,” Edmund said; Peter’s expression was neatly the mirror opposite, “Oh, no, let us not do so.”

“It appeared to me,” the Porcupine began sagely, that “sexual activity generally plays a major role in Bonobo society. I observed forms of genital stimulation and mating as a greeting, to reinforce the social bonds among family members, and to resolve conflict. Also tongue kissing. Tell me, do your majesties engage in such behaviors?”


	12. Doing Math In Your Head

Syrena_of_the_Lake, Any, any, _“I don’t do math in my head”_

That Dwarfs, Beavers, Crows, Rats, and Centaurs would be good at maths was no surprise to Banker Morgan of the House of Linch (Baker of Narnia, Hound-friend, Lady of the Murder and Romp, Gryphon-wing, Lady Consort and mate to Harold, King Edmund, the Just, Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Order of the Table, Wandbreaker, Duke of the Lantern Waste, Count of the Western March – Morgan loved her titles as much as Harold did).

But even she couldn’t keep a sum in her head the way an Acorn Woodpecker could

As she stared at the _enormous_ pile of acorns that had spilled out of an old oak tree, Morgan wasn’t going to contradict the confident assessment of the Woodpecker inspecting the hoard, “Thirty thousand, five hundred and sixty-two,” the Bird paused, “plus or minus five.” 


	13. Oars up!

Francienyc, Narnia, Edmund, awakening (take that as you will)

He was supposed to be cavorting with wildly enthusiastic (and naked) Dryads newly awakened and very randy in Spring; instead, Edmund, had developed a miserably intense and very unwanted allergy to tree pollen and, with rheumy eyes and a dripping nose he kept wiping on his sleeve, was having a heart to heart with a Goose – albeit, a very wise one.

  
“I don’t know what to do, Thomas,” Edmund grumped and then sneezed violently; he was whinging but really, it was just insufferable – he had really wanted to experience it all just as Susan and Peter had and join the Dryad Dance, where, of course, dancing was, at best and as every Narnian knew, merely prelude to the greater pleasures of skin on bark sensation.

“It is a trial, King Edmund, and an upset of warranted expectation, so I suggest finding a trusted, non-pollinating friend in a climate with fewer greening trees – perhaps Galma, with Lord Abnur – did you not say at his last visit that he was _very_ attentive and that you thought him attract…” but Edmund never heard the last of Thomas’s advice as he was already pelting back to his rooms to pack a bag and order a ship – or a rowboat he’d power himself if nothing else would serve.


	14. I think that's a capybara

For ruanchuxian, Narnia rthverse, capybara, [this post ](https://64.media.tumblr.com/47310a4f7adccbf2c799bc2203cf9a9c/cfc1369ec4d64d0b-a6/s500x750/aa3f7cfa6f9d5eabe0fad25b00e84f1f84cbd1d4.jpg)

With the first real Spring, many of the Talking Beasts asked that Lucy attend their birthings, with her Royal Gift of healing in case something went wrong, which it hadn’t so far.

This morning she was in the swampy marsh, very muddy, with a lot of flies and Puck had just birthed four squealing, restless pups, no problem at all, but the mother staggered to her feet and so Lucy tried to get her to settle, “You must rest, Puck, and nurse your lovely pups!” (even if they weren’t very palovely at the moment).

“No,” Puck insisted, “we must all turn our backs so the Chupacabra can come!”

Lucy didn’t understand but all the other Capybaras in the Meditation turned their backs on the newborns and nudged her to do the same. 

“What are we doing?” she whispered, pressed in on all sides by coarse brown hair; the reeds and grass poked through Edmund’s trousers and prickled her knees.

“The Chupacabra comes and takes all the bad blood in a newborn pup,” Puck whispered back. “And then they can grow up and be sweet and kind like all other Capybaras.”

“But we can’t watch,” Cubby said. “Else the Chupacabra gets frightened and runs away.”

Lucy felt a chilly breeze on her neck and the complaining, restive pups behind her squealed loudly, then, suddenly quieted and the Capybaras around her let out a deep sigh. 

Puck immediately turned back around, went to her pups and curled around them as best she could with her squarish body; Lucy picked them up and nestled each one at a teat. The Long Winter had been very, very hard for the grazing animals like the Capybaras and she was very happy to see a fine, healthy brood.

“What happens if the Chupacabra doesn’t take the bad blood away?”

Next to her, Cubby shuddered. “Have you ever met an Otter?”


	15. Collaborator

HarmonyLover, Narnia, Mrs. Beaver, through the hard times

It was relief, Fibera realized, when the Four forgot where they came from. King Edmund and Queen Lucy might have been too young understand, but the High King and Queen Susan had drawn the obvious conclusion when they saw some Narnians starving while others had a cozy home with curtains, enough food to make a marmalade roll, and a sewing machine. Queen Susan had whispered to her brother, _Nazi collaborators_ and while she didn’t know what a “Nazi” was, neither was it hard to guess that the elder children knew what it looked like when you took things from your oppressor to survive. 


	16. Next Gen Concert of Minds

Eagleoftheninth, Rthverse Narnia, any except the Pevensies, _Rat and Crow stuff that's not set in the Golden Age. There always needs to be a Royal Mind, right?_

With a solemn “We are dismissed for the day,” by Master Philyra, his cousins and younger brother and sisters pelted out of the outbuilding classroom in a cloud of Guard Canid and Feline hair, making a mad dash for arms exercises on the training grounds; but Peter Linch just stared at his twin and they both sighed mournfully.

“No fun for their Royal Highnesses,” Lucile Aidan said with a grimace matching his own mood and, looping her arms in his, they trudged back to the Palace, with Sky and Marc trailing behind and the Wolves shoving them with their noses when they thought their Crown Prince and Princess were dawdling too much in their weary climb to the Tower Library.

Chief Kali was already waiting for them, snapping her beak irritably as he and Lucile settled in their chairs at the ancient, hallowed desks of their forebears, the Just King and the Banker Consort and, as was the way with Ravens, began their afternoon instruction without prelude, "Today, we shall review the Rule of Threes and how, in examining a series of ill events, the first may be explained as bad luck and the second as unfortunate coincidence, but with the third, we must begin to look at the possibility of conspiracy."


End file.
